An exquisite scale model of the sloop Haridan sat on the glossy polished oak of Ethan’s desk. Some skilled craftsman had faithfully rendered the boat’s sleek structure and clean lines. Ethan spent every free moment on Haridan, sailing Narragansett Bay, Long Island Sound, and the open Atlantic. He often docked on Block Island, where he kept a summer home. For Ethan Kitteredge, responsible banker, responsible husband, responsible father, Haridan meant rare and precious moments of heady freedom.

The coffee successfully served, Kitteredge took his seat behind his desk and pulled a file from the top center drawer. He looked at the file for a moment, shook his head, and handed it across the desk to Neal. Then he sat back in his chair and pressed his fingers together in “This is the church, this is the steeple” fashion.

Kitteredge talked like he walked. “Some… uh… old family friends have a bit of a… problem, and we have offered our… services… to assist them in finding a resolution.”

He smiled, as if to suggest that disorderly people were amusing, weren’t they, and a bit of a bother, but they are our friends, and we must do our best. He paused for a moment to allow Neal to open the file.

“Senator John Chase comes from a prominent Rhode Island family,” said Kitteredge. “The family name has undoubtedly been an asset… in his political progress, but I hasten to add that the Senator is a talented, intelligent, and… ah… energetic man.”

Okay.

Kitteredge Continued: “The Senator sits on several important committees, where his performance has attracted… national attention, from the press as well as party professionals. Despite the somewhat distasteful fact that John is a Democrat… we support him in his ambitions.”

Money in the bank.

“The probable Democratic nominee will need to look northward for a running mate. Ah… emissaries have already been sent.”

Kitteredge paused to allow the import of this last statement to sink in.